


Hold the Elevator

by notmyyacht



Category: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - All Media Types, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Caractacus can be sassy when he wants to be, Christmas Eve, Crossover Pairings, Elevator Sex, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Neighbor au, Nevada's got a crush, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8988802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmyyacht/pseuds/notmyyacht
Summary: Nevada wasn't one for Christmas. In fact, all he planned to do for Christmas Eve was get drunk in his apartment. Getting stuck in an elevator with his eccentric, but attractive neighbor certainly wasn't on the agenda.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A big THANK YOU to sadlittleman on tumblr for beta'ing this for me!!!!
> 
> Merry Christmas everybody!!! Enjoy!

“I told you, get that fucker to pay, or I’ll be _paying him_ a visit… I don’t fuckin’ care, just- Hold the elevator!” Nevada didn’t make any plans to actually run to the closing elevator doors. He walked calmly and casually, like he owned the place… which he did.

Usually, he’d have one of his boys run to get there first, but it’s Christmas Eve and Nevada let them go home to their families. It was a particularly kind gesture that Nevada didn’t exactly make a tradition of every year. However, Gabby’s girlfriend had had a baby a few months ago. Nevada could understand that –family.

Nevada made it a point every year to book himself with as much work as possible so he wouldn’t have to spend Christmas with his own. Or rather, his sister’s. Not that he didn’t like them; it was the holiday he didn’t care for.

This year was a big lie. Only the day before he had to cancel coming to dinner. “Too much to do.” His brother-in-law and business partner saw right through him, but he was a friend and would never rat him out, even to his own wife.

Still, Nevada wasn’t nearly as busy this year as he wished he could be. Most years there would be begging for more time, ‘I’ll get you your money, I promise’s, a higher demand for product, etc. Most years making excuses was easy. Somehow, this year was cake. By six o’clock in the evening, Christmas Eve, Nevada had free time. So, a lie to his sister it was.

“Just get it done tonight,” Nevada said into the phone, paused for effect, then added, “and don’t call me again about this.”

At last, he reached the elevator. Nevada hung up his phone to the last-minute work thing and stepped inside. He did not thank the man who had held the doors for him, but simply leaned slightly and pushed the button for the top floor.

The elevator shook slightly then began to ascend.

Nevada frowned, making a mental note to have the super take a look at the elevator soon.

Finally taking note of it, he brushed off the partially melted snow that had accumulated on his shoulders. It was freezing out and Nevada had left his winter coat at the club, but the traffic had been so bad he figured it wasn’t worth going back for it. At least he had his leather jacket to keep him somewhat warm in the slightly less-cold elevator. Another thing he should talk to the super about…

“That was a close one, wasn’t it?” said the other man, who had held the door for Nevada earlier.

Nevada hadn’t particularly noticed him before, but with nothing else much to do, he glanced over at the man.

Bright green eyes met his gaze, and a face lit with excitement. What the hell was _he_ so keyed up about? The man was perhaps only a year or two younger than Nevada, with a boyish grin and a brightly colored plaid suit that matched his eyes. Two large bags sat by his feet and gave off an aroma of seasoned chicken that reminded Nevada he hadn’t eaten since breakfast; his mouth watered.

The man followed Nevada’s gaze and grinned.

“I was going to make Christmas dinner for my children, but the dinner machine broke.” The smile quickly faded in embarrassment. As if Nevada even knew what a ‘dinner machine’ was. “So I had to run out and buy a few things. Lucky the children aren’t too disappointed. They even picked out what they wanted. Though I’m afraid I bought too much. Leftovers, I suppose, in case I can’t fix the dinner machine soon.”

“Uh-huh.” Nevada tried not to wonder for too long what a ‘dinner machine’ could possibly be. _Only in fucking New York…_

Before he could listen to the man go on about his children, the elevator gave a sharp jostle. Both men immediately lost any sense of balance and dropped to the floor. The lights flickered and then silence.

Shit.

Nevada got to his feet without any regard for the man who was still on the floor, now cradling his left wrist. Luckily, the light above was still on, so finding the emergency alarm button wasn’t a problem. Nevada pressed it, grumbling under his breath.

“Did… did the lift stop?” asked the man, getting to his feet and looking around. Nevada silently thanked god the stranger wasn’t panicking. In fact, he seemed impeccably calm. His tone had been one more of surprise than fear.

Nevada paused. His eyes flickered from the small door to the emergency phone beside the alarm button.

 _Fuck it_ , thought Nevada and slipped his fingers into the gap so he could pry the door open.  

“What are you doing? Didn’t you just press the alarm?” asked the man.

“This building is fuckin’ old and needs a shitton of work. I wouldn’t be surprised if the button wasn’t working,” Nevada replied, easily popping the door open. He snatched up the phone and quickly started dialing the number above the panel. As he waited for someone to pick up, he added, “I’m not surprised the elevator stopped at all.”

“You seem to know a lot about this building.”

Nevada opened his mouth to give a snarky reply, but just then he heard a “Hello?” on the other end. He recognized the voice. It was Benny, the super.

“Hola Benny! It’s Nevada.  Si si, Benny… Benny this isn’t a fuckin’ social call. No…” Nevada’s grip on the phone tightened. He liked Benny, but damn if the man wasn’t the biggest social butterfly he knew, sometimes annoyingly so, especially if Nevada only wanted to talk to him about something important.

Nevada’s elevator buddy watched him carefully, catching a sentence from Benny here and there.

“Benny, the elevator is fucking stuck between the fourth and the fifth floor. Now would you call the fuckin’ fire department already?”

“You alone in there?” asked Benny.

“No, I’m with…” Nevada turned to the man. “What’s your name?”

“Caractacus Potts,” the stranger said, a slight smile forming. Nevada stared at him a moment. He had to be joking. When Caractacus didn’t waver or say ‘Just kidding,’ Nevada turned away from him, shaking his head.

“I’m with Crack Pott. That name ring a bell?”

“Oh Mr. Potts! Nice guy, sweet kids. Tell him I said hi!”

Nevada rolled his eyes so hard his head rolled with them. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

“Benny. Get us the fuck out of here,” he snarled into the phone.

“No worries Nevada! It will probably take an hour or two though. Apparently there’s a big commotion going on downtown. There’s a fire or somethin’. Jen texted me about it a couple minutes before you called. Apparently it’s-”

“ _Benny!_ ”

“Alright, Nevada. I’m already calling 911. You fellas just sit tight. You’ll be out of there soon.”

“Soon isn’t soon enough,” Nevada grumbled and hung up. He sighed as he rubbed his eye and leaned against the wall.

“How’s Benny?” asked the man – _Caractacus_ \- as he mirrored Nevada, leaning with his back against the opposite wall.

Nevada finally looked up at him, arms crossed, his eyes exhausted.

“He says ‘hi.’ And that we might be in here a little while, Crack Pott.”

“It’s _Caractacus_ Potts. I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name. What was it? Oregon? Texas?” Caractacus bit back.

Nevada’s brow furrowed as he met Caractacus’ unwavering gaze. Touché. A smirk played at his lips. Oh, this was going to be more fun than he thought.

“It’s Nevada, Nevada Ramirez.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ramirez.” All sweet smiles again, Caractacus shook his hand.

Nevada began to shamelessly ogle him again. If they were going to be stuck here for a while, the least he could do was take in the eye candy. And Caractacus _was_ attractive. The plaid was atrocious, but Nevada imagined that the body beneath it matched the cute face and the soft floppy brown hair. At least, it looked soft. He doubted Caractacus would let him touch it.

“So, two kids?” Not that Nevada really wanted to talk about Potts’ spawn, but he was digging and bored.

Caractacus’ face lit up again.

“Yes, they’re twins. Jeremy and Jemima. They are the light of my life!” Caractacus’ excitement wavered as he spoke. “They’re probably getting worried. Oh, and I don’t have a portable phone…”

Nevada resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, but reached into his pocket and pulled out his own cell.

“Here.”

“Oh thank you!” Caractacus immediately started dialing and put the phone to his ear.

Nevada silently observed the call. Caractacus’ grin grew when he heard his daughter’s voice on the other end. He told her what had happened and that he’d be out soon. He spoke to his son, telling him not to stay up too late. Don’t let Grandpa eat all the Christmas cookies like last year. If he’s not back by eight to eat without him; there’s pasta in the pantry.

So domestic.

“Goodbye, my boy. I’ll be there as soon as the fire department gets us out.”

Caractacus hung up and handed the phone back. Nevada slipped it into his inner breast pocket, gaze still locked on him.

“Little Jemima, Jeremy, and Grandpa. No lucky wife?”

Caractacus’ beaming expression went dark. Nevada mentally kicked himself. He had figured she just didn’t come to the phone -marital problems perhaps- or that she was too busy cooking her nuclear family a fucking pie or feeding the golden retriever or something. But now that Nevada thought about it, Caractacus hadn’t mentioned a wife at all.

There went Nevada’s perfect family image he perceived Caractacus to have. The image began to change. Divorce? Separation? Abandoned?

“I lost Mimsie a couple years ago.”

Oh.

Nevada averted his gaze with a soft, but genuine, “Sorry.”

“You didn’t know. She was very sick and… Well, it still hurts, especially around Christmastime. I just hope we’re not in here very long. I would very much prefer to spend my Christmas Eve with my children.” Caractacus gently rubbed at his wrist.

“You hurt?” Nevada asked, nodding at the gesture; grateful for the opportunity to change the subject.

Caractacus looked down.

“Oh, I’m alright,” Caractacus said, smiling again. “My wrist slammed against the railing when the elevator stopped. It barely hurts now, though it might bruise.”

Nevada frowned and took a step closer to snatch up Caractacus’ arm. He pushed up the sleeve and examined it under the poor elevator lighting. He gently pressed down.

“That hurt?”

“A little. Not as much as before.”

“You’ll live,” Nevada stated, still holding Caractacus’ wrist, not quite looking him in the eye. Caractacus had beautiful hands. Long, slim fingers, but not as soft as he would’ve imagined. A bit rougher, like he worked with them. They were cold. Nevada cupped the one hand in both of his.

“Are you a doctor, Nevada?” Caractacus asked with interest.

“Do I look like a doctor?” Nevada chuckled. “Let’s just say I’ve just seen my fair share of sprained and broken bones.”

Nevada hadn’t noticed before, but now he realized just how close to Caractacus he was. Judging by the color rising to his cheeks, Caractacus had just realized it too.  

Stuck in a tiny elevator with no cameras, no disturbances for at least an hour… Nevada’s mind wandered. He started to lean in.

A loud gurgle echoed against the blank, metal walls. Nevada froze and his own face reddened.

Caractacus raised his eyebrows.

“Are you hungry?”

 

 

A couple minutes later the two were sitting on the floor, chowing down on the chicken. The temperature in the elevator had significantly dropped, so the food wasn’t as hot as it was earlier, but they were both too hungry to care. Caractacus insisted they save some for the children, and although Nevada agreed, he swiped an extra drumstick.

Caractacus Potts seemed ready for anything. He even had a small package of wet wipes in his inner breast pocket of his jacket. Awfully convenient for a surprise stuck-in-an-elevator fried chicken Christmas meal.

“I sometimes get grease on my hands when I’m working,” he explained.

_Uh-huh, sure._

“And what exactly do you do?” Nevada asked, betting car mechanic.

“I’m an inventor and engineer.”

Close enough. Though that did explain ‘dinner machine’ from earlier. Nevada wasn’t sure what that would even look like, but he didn’t ask. This was just to pass the time. Nothing more.

Nevada took out a flask from his inner breast pocket and offered it to Caractacus, who took a single, hesitant swig before handing it back.

“Oh, but we are talking so much about me. What were _your_ holiday plans before the elevator postponed them?”

Nevada nearly choked on the whiskey. He wiped a stray drop from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Are you alright?” Caractacus’ asked. God, why did he sound so… _sincere?_

“I’m fine.” Nevada quickly composed himself and sat up.

“I had to work most of the day. I was just heading home. No family, no big dinner. And _don’t_ give me those sappy puppy eyes.” Nevada hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud, but it was out.

Caractacus averted his gaze.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, uh… I shouldn’t have…. _The point is_ I like it. Well, more like I like not being surrounded by my seven – _six-_ nieces and nephews.” Damn, nearly two years later and Nevada still slipped up on that one.

“Why not?”

Nevada shrugged.

“I was never particularly good with kids. About half those kids are reaching their teens too.” Nevada shook his head. “Maybe they make me feel old. I’m only forty for fuck’s sake! I…”

Nevada trailed off. He screwed the top of the flask closed and shoved it back into his pocket. He hadn’t had much, but it was enough. No more blurting out feelings to the cute stranger. Nevada looked over at Caractacus, who waited for a completion of that hanging thought.

What was it about Caractacus? Something warm. Something stern perhaps, but energized. Nevada liked talking to him. He’s good company. More pleasant than any other Nevada had in his life.

Nevada’s stomach fluttered. He cleared his throat, chalking it up to the greasy food settling in his belly.

_Stupid._

“Christmas just doesn’t do anything for me,” Nevada concluded.

Caractacus scooted closer and placed a hand on Nevada’s arm. Nevada’s face flushed warm. His body really needed to calm the fuck down. But Caractacus’ face was close to his again.

“Christmas shouldn’t have to be such a lonely time,” said Caractacus. “You should surround yourself with those who care about you.”

Nevada noticed that there were light freckles on Caractacus’ nose. The lighting was better over here than it was when they were closer to the door. The fluorescence reflected in those bright, lively eyes. So cute…

_So stupid._

Nevada shook his head.

“Fuck it.” He leaned forward, this time catching Caractacus’ lips with his own. Nevada only used his lips, pressing warmly as not to startle Caractacus. But it was still too much.

Caractacus regained his senses, then shoved a hand between them and roughly pushed Nevada back. Nevada nearly fell backward in surprise.

Caractacus’ eyes were wide, his mouth agape.

“W-Why did you do that!?” Caractacus’ hand was still raised, as if he expected Nevada to try again.

Rejection wasn’t something Nevada was familiar with. Usually if there was no interest from the other party, he’d go elsewhere. There was always someone willing and able waiting off to the sidelines. Here there was only Caractacus. Here it wasn’t about sex either.

Nevada swallowed thickly. He had misinterpreted Caractacus’ kindness for… something else. Something he never particularly sought out. Something that wasn’t here either.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, his head slightly hung.

_Fucking stupid._

Caractacus lowered his hand.

“Apology accepted,” he said, wringing his hands together. “It’s not you. I think you are quite handsome and despite the situation, I’m glad it’s you I’ve had the misfortune of being trapped in an elevator with. It’s just been a while since I’ve been with anyone. Mimsie was the love of my life and since her death, I’ve rarely considered moving on. There was one woman, Truly. She was truly something… but it didn’t work out.

“I don’t know if I _can_ move on. I thought maybe a different time period could help with the pain, and it has. I love it here, the children love it here. But…”

Nevada scooted back closer to Caractacus and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“You deserve to be happy. Wouldn’t she want you to?” he asked.

Caractacus nodded and relaxed against Nevada’s side.

“I’m sorry,” said Caractacus.

“Stop it. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Nevada sighed and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.”

About fifteen minutes passed. The two simply sat there. Caractacus, regaining some of his holiday cheer, started humming “O Holy Night.” Nevada wondered if the man liked to sing as well, but decided not to push it. The humming was comforting.

At some point Caractacus started leaning his head against Nevada’s shoulder. Caractacus nudged just a tiny bit closer and Nevada held him a bit tighter.

“Fuckin’ freezing in here,” Nevada mumbled. “You doin’ okay?”

Caractacus nodded.

“Just wish the fire department would get here already.”

Nevada looked down at his watch.

“It’s only been about forty minutes since I called Benny. He said one to two hours.”

“Why so long?” asked Caractacus before breathing into his cupped hands.

“Something about a fire downtown,” said Nevada.

“Oh brilliant,” Caractacus sneered. Nevada had to admit, he liked this snarky side of him. “Why do you know so much about the building?” asked Caractacus.

“I own it. Surprise, I’m your landlord.”

Caractacus’ eyebrows shot up.

“Oh.”

“Most of it is off the record. I legally own it, but there are a few different levels of building managers and the like. The only time you would have heard my name when renting the place is when you first signed the lease. Not surprised you forgot it.” Nevada shrugged and asked, “What floor do you live on?”

“The fifth.”

Nevada lightly chuckled.

“Sucks for you. You live next to that asshole that blasted Christmas music the other night? I live right above them at 602. I fuckin’ swear, if he does that one more time…”

“I live in 502B.”

Nevada looked down at Caractacus, who returned the look with remorse.

“I sincerely apologize. The children and I were decorating the tree and… I suppose we’re still not used to having such close neighbors.”

The _many_ curses Nevada had wished upon the neighbors below him all ran through his head at once, leaving him to stare blankly ahead. At the time, he didn’t feel like dealing with it and was about to send one of his men to go tell the asshole to shut it up, when the music suddenly cut out mid-song. He had wondered why it had, but didn’t give enough shits to find out. He only hoped it wouldn’t start up again.

“Why did you stop the music mid-‘Snoopy’s Christmas’?”

“I tripped over the plug and broke it. It was bedtime for the children by the time I fixed it.”

Huh. Mystery solved.

Nevada could easily imagine bright and cheerful Caractacus being so busy, so wrapped up in his own happy-go-lucky world, that he didn’t notice a single cord on the floor. He snorted, despite himself.

“I suppose it _is_ humorous…” Caractacus said, not feeling as amused by the memory of falling on his funny bone.

Caractacus’ deadpan tone made Nevada laugh out loud. Caractacus looked up at him again. It wasn’t that funny, but now Caractacus’ unamused, slightly pouting face was too much. Nevada shook, he was laughing so hard now.

“It was not _that_ humorous!” Caractacus insisted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his own mouth.

But Nevada continued to laugh until his sides hurt.

“Stop laughing!” But Caractacus was right there with him.

Nevada wondered if this was it. Less than an hour confined to an enclosed space and they were already losing it.

“Stop stop stop!” Caractacus giggled, then closed the gap between them.

Nevada barely registered the soft warmth before it was gone again. Caractacus sheepishly turned away.

“I-I’m sorry! I should not have…” he stuttered, then paused. “A frightful chill in here, isn’t there?”

Nevada smirked and slid a hand onto Caractacus’ thigh. Caractacus didn’t pull away or flinch, but instead pushed his leg up slightly, encouraging.

Caractacus faced him again, his cheeks still pink, but a mischievous look in his eye.

“Perhaps we could do something to keep warm…” Caractacus’ voice betrayed his face. He was nervous. He needed Nevada to make the next move and Nevada had no problem doing so.

He leaned in for the third time that night and with lips parted he pressed his mouth against Caractacus’. Caractacus sighed into it and kissed him back, a little chaster on his end. Nevada slipped his tongue into Caractacus’ mouth and tasted what he could.

Caractacus tasted vaguely of whiskey and the slightest hint of chicken that Nevada tried not to think too much about, lest he start laughing again.

Caractacus was doing all he could to keep up with Nevada. His kisses with Mimsie were rarely intense like this. It was just how it was. The sex wasn’t boring or even too vanilla by 21stcentury standards, but this… this wasn’t Mimsie. Nevada was different. Different wasn’t so bad.

Nevada slid his hand further up Caractacus’ thigh and started teasing the growing bulge there with his index finger. Caractacus whimpered into Nevada’s mouth; his hands gripped Nevada’s leather jacket in tight fists.

At last Nevada allowed himself to run a hand through that beautiful hair. _Damn_ it really was soft! He grasped it, but not too tight. Just enough to get a feel of it between his fingertips. He tugged it a little, earning him a small gasp.

Nevada pulled back only to get a quick look at Caractacus’ flushed cheeks and slightly puckered lips. _Beautiful_ , he thought. _And I’ve only just begun._

“I thought you said you’re not ready to move on,” he whispered.

A smile slowly spread across Caractacus’ face.

“I know we have only just met but I enjoy our conversations,” he said.

“I’m the _only_ person you’ve been able to have a conversation with,” Nevada replied as he rolled his eyes with a slight smile of his own.

“Still. You’re pleasant company, Nevada.” An embarrassed pink flushed Caractacus’ cheeks again. “Perhaps I ought to open myself up more in regards to having sexual relations with others. I’d rather do so with those I’ve already opened up to emotionally. Besides, tonight wasn’t our first meeting, so it’s not like I’m just throwing myself at the first person who finds me attractive.”

Nevada paused.

“It _isn’t_?” Nevada flipped through vague memories of coming and going from the building. Most of the time he’d been on autopilot, or checking his phone while his boys did the looking around. Sure, they lived in the same building, but Nevada never took the time to meet his tenants –unless they gave him a problem and Benny had to bring his attention to them. Caractacus Potts stuck out like a sore thumb; he would’ve remembered meeting him.

Caractacus laughed and intentionally bumped his nose against Nevada’s. Nevada startled at the display of affection.

“It was only once, in the basement. It was a little after midnight and I was working late. One of my inventions had leaked a sugar concoction onto my apron and trousers and I needed to get it cleaned as soon as possible. When I came down to the basement, there you were, in only a shirt and boxers, waiting for the dryer to finish. I remember, you had your arms crossed and were staring intensely at the machine.”

Nevada couldn’t remember _any_ of this. He rarely ever did his own laundry, let alone in the middle of the night.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be down there, so I didn’t bother to bring a spare pair of pants. I ended up removing them right in front of you. I was embarrassed because you were staring blankly at my undergarments.” Caractacus chuckled at the irony. “You asked why I was wearing them and I would have been appalled at your forwardness if it weren’t for the fact you were likely intoxicated.”

Oh.

“Your breath smelled quite foul and you kept slurring your words, and yet we managed to carry on a conversation about underwear!”

Nevada never felt embarrassed about his drunken escapades before. He tended to be surprisingly high-functioning when drunk –though mostly from experience of having to stop partying to work if something came up-. No dancing on tables or having sex with Bronx hookers. He rarely got _that_ drunk, even on his ‘days off.’ Wow, he must have been _really_ drunk that night.

“I can honestly say I have no fucking memory of this,” said Nevada.

Caractacus laughed and pecked Nevada’s lips. Nevada tried not to think about how sweet, how _natural_ it felt. Caractacus stood up and stretched his legs.

“Do you think they’ll be here soon?” he asked.

Nevada glanced at his watch.

“We’ve probably still got plenty of time to spare,” he replied, his tone implying. They had time for _that_. He stood and wrapped his arms around Caractacus from behind, with one hand tracing the outline of Caractacus’ abdomen and the other resting on his hip. “Plenty of time,” he said, his voice low and his lips brushing against the shell of Caractacus’ ear.

Caractacus shivered, but not from the cold. He turned and hungrily went for Nevada’s lips. Nevada smirked into his mouth and grasped handfuls of Caractacus’ ass, pulling the man flush against him.

“You… still didn’t… answer my question,” Nevada managed to get out between kisses. On one hand, he didn’t really care, but Caractacus had been so poignant before. He really must be losing his shit.

“Because you were right,” said Caractacus, his mouth hovering so close to Nevada’s, Nevada could feel their lips brushing ever so slightly as Caractacus spoke. “Because Mimsie would want me to be happy.”

 _We’re having sex in an elevator_ , Nevada wanted to say. _How the hell are you getting so sentimental about this? It’s not like we’re going to be dating after this…_ Nevada didn’t say that, but the moment he thought it, he told himself to shut up. Nevada wouldn’t let himself think about what _that_ meant. Instead, he kissed Caractacus again, roughly. He nipped at Caractacus’ lip and ground his hips against the plaid-covered groin.

Caractacus moaned into Nevada’s mouth and slid his hands under Nevada’s leather jacket. He grabbed at whatever he could then snaked his hands behind Nevada to dig his nails into Nevada’s back.

Nevada pushed Caractacus against the nearest wall and shoved a knee between Caractacus’ thighs. Strong hands gripped Caractacus’ hips as Nevada ground against him, roughly moving his thigh against Caractacus with every thrust.

“Oh-oh my! Nevada, please…”

Nevada smirked. Didn’t have to ask him twice. He dropped to his knees and started fumbling with the front of Caractacus’ pants.

“W-What are you doing?” Caractacus looked down at him, flustered, his hair a mess.

Nevada ran his hands up and down Caractacus’ thighs, around to shape his ass, then back to the front.

“I’m not really one to be giving these, but…” Nevada smirked, a glimmer in his eye that made Caractacus shiver, “I really want to see you melt in my mouth.”

Careful fingers returned to the front of the plaid pants. Nevada stroked him over the clothing. He gently squeezed.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

Caractacus nodded fervently and licked his lips.

Nevada slipped his hand in and wrapped it Caractacus’ hard cock.

“Oh!” Caractacus bit his lower lip, watching as Nevada pulled his cock out of his pants.

“Well, well, well, Crack Pott. Looks like you’ve been holding out on me,” Nevada teased, genuinely impressed.

Caractacus looked away for a moment and Nevada wondered if his face could get any redder than it was.

Nevada slid his hand down Caractacus’ cock, and then back up. His fingers slowly circled the tip. Caractacus shivered. God, Nevada could do this all day. But this was reality and they only had so much time. Shame. Teasing Caractacus for hours sounded like a great time.

Nevada bowed his head and ran his tongue up the slit of Caractacus’ cock. Caractacus jumped slightly. Nevada smirked to himself and took the head into his mouth.

“Oh lord!” Caractacus mewled, his eyes fluttering shut.

Nevada bobbed his head then took as much in as he could. He pressed his tongue against the underside of Caractacus’ cock.

“Nev-Nevada! Please, I’m going to…”

Well, he couldn’t have _that_ just yet. Nevada immediately pulled back and smiled up at a Caractacus, who was a complete mess.

“You look gorgeous,” Nevada commented, getting to his feet. He roughly pressed his mouth against Caractacus, making sure he could taste himself. Caractacus moaned and cupped the front of Nevada’s black jeans, squeezing.

Nevada growled, thrusting his hips forward.

“You were really close just now,” he teased, slowly stroking Caractacus. “You really haven’t done this in a while, have you?”

“You thought I was lying?”

“Nah, I believe you. But… have you even touched yourself in all that time?” Nevada emphasized his question by quickening his strokes.

Huh, so his face _could_ go redder.

Caractacus gaped at him.

“That’s- that’s none of your concern!”

Huh, so he _does_ masturbate. Nevada could honestly say he was somewhat surprised. Somewhat.

“Hey, it’s just a question. And you just answered it- _Jesus_ you’re fuckin’ big.” Nevada glanced down between them, considering using two hands.

“And you have a mouth on you,” Caractacus muttered. Nevada smiled, taking it as a compliment.

Caractacus started unbuckling Nevada’s belt. Finally. Nevada had been starting to wonder if he was going to have to take care of himself. Caractacus tugged hard on the belt and made quick work of the button and zipper. He glanced down.

“Do you always wear black boxers?” he asked, his curiosity genuine.

“What do you mean always-? Oh, right.” Right. Drunken first meeting in underwear. Nevada was really going to have to ask Gabby when the last time he was staggering drunk so he could figure out when this was and why he was in the basement that night.

Nevada didn’t get a chance to say anything else. Caractacus was already pulling his cock out of his boxers and giving him a few rough tugs before settling into a quick rhythm. Holy shit.

Caractacus seemed to be the only one of the two who remembered the fire department could walk in on them at any time, and he was not wasting it.

This wasn’t a place for teasing, and not for dragging it out. Nevada once again pushed down any thoughts about how much he would like to have that with Caractacus. Not here. Not now.

Caractacus had both hands on him, one around him and the other buried under Nevada’s balls, gently squeezing, massaging the sensitive spot just behind them. Nevada nearly came just at that. In comparison, he was barely doing anything in return. Just a hand wrapped around Caractacus’ cock, moving in time with Caractacus’ strokes.

For someone who got laid more often in the past month than Caractacus had in the past two years, Nevada really needed to step his game up. It was almost a little embarrassing how the tables had turned, but Caractacus didn’t seem to mind.

“It really has been too long,” he said, pulling Nevada into a kiss.

Nevada felt the familiar pressure building. _Wow? Really?_ Caractacus wasn’t even stroking him at a pace that usually got him off. But Caractacus’ tongue felt warm against his and his rough hand felt so _good_ … Nevada dropped the cock he had stopped stroking so he could hold Caractacus’ face and lips to his as he came. During the high, he could have sworn he felt Caractacus smiling against his mouth.

Completely spent, Nevada rested his forehead against Caractacus’.

“Well that was embarrassing,” Nevada mumbled.

Caractacus smiled.

Nevada regained his composure and wondered if he should just finish what he started earlier and suck Caractacus off. But then he felt Caractacus’ hand on his own.

“Please?” said Caractacus, guiding him back to his still-hard cock. Nevada nodded and returned to stroking him, focusing on the head and the tip. Caractacus was incredibly sensitive there, it seemed.

Nevada palmed Caractacus quick and rough. He wanted Caractacus to enjoy this, but to soothe his own ego he also wanted Caractacus to not be too far behind him.

“Nevada, I’m close again,” Caractacus whimpered.

“Good. Come on, cum for me,” Nevada growled, his pace relentless until at last Caractacus yelped and came all over Nevada’s leather jacket.

 

 

Thank god for those wet wipes.

After an hour and forty-five minutes stuck inside the cold elevator on Christmas Eve with only each other to keep warm, the fire department finally arrived.

Paramedics swooped over the two of them, just to make sure they were alright. Caractacus’ arm was alright. They were fine and allowed to go home. This time, they took the stairs.

They stopped on level five, at the door of apartment 502B.

“Thank you for walking me home. I’m certain my children have been worried to death about me,” said Caractacus.

“They’ll get it over it. Kids are like rubber band balls.”

Nevada Ramirez knew nothing about children or their resilience, but Caractacus laughed anyway.

“It’s still early. Why don’t you join us?” Caractacus’ smile was warm and it made Nevada’s stomach do that stupid butterfly feeling. Stupid.

He smiled.

“Nah, thanks. I still have a date with my bottle of holiday scotch.” Nevada took a single step backward. “Merry Christmas Caractacus.”

Caractacus looked sad, but understanding.

“Merry Christmas, Nevada.”

Nevada gave a curt nod before turning to leave. He whirled around.

“Don’t be a stranger. If you ever need anything or if anybody ever messes with you, you just let me know, okay?” Nevada said this with the most serious expression Caractacus had ever seen on him. It made him chuckle.

“Alright!”

Satisfied, Nevada turned on his heel and left. He didn’t even watch Caractacus enter his apartment.

 

It was nearly midnight.

Nevada was working on his second glass of scotch and half-watching _It’s a Wonderful Life_ on the TV. The other half of his attention was on the previous events of the night.

He told himself it was the alcohol talking. He didn’t really want to spend Christmas with the two rugrats and their hot dad. It was the alcohol… and the loneliness.

Nevada liked his independence. He liked that he buried himself in his business and made few close friends and never got into serious relationships. Adding someone like Caractacus would only complicate things.

His eyes flickered to the screen.

George Bailey was running after Mary in the world where he was never born. She didn’t recognize him. George looked absolutely miserable.

Nevada downed the last of his scotch then snatched up the remote. He smiled, turning the volume up so that even the quieter conversations in the movie gave the illusion they were yelling. Nevada stamped on the floor.

“Jingle bells! Jingle bells! I’ve turned my music up too loud!” he sang off-key. “I’m a good! Fucking! Neighbor!”

That ought to do it. He settled back into his chair and waited.

A few minutes later, there was a knocking on the front door. Nevada grinned and muted the television. Making his way to the door, he realized there was the possibility this drew in unwanted attention from a different neighbor. He opened the door.

“So you’re the asshole being too loud in the apartment above me.”

Nevada’s grinned grew wider.

“You swore.”

Caractacus shook his head. “And you’re intoxicated, again.”

“Only a little. Not so much that I’ll black out. Why don’t you join me?” Nevada stepped aside. When Caractacus didn’t move, he took a step closer. “Please? It’s Christmas.”

A smile spread across Caractacus’ face.

“Alright, but only one drink. I still haven’t put the gifts under the tree yet,” he said, stepping into the apartment.

“ _Santa_ does that,” Nevada scoffed, closing the door behind him. Nevada didn’t let Caractacus get very far down the hall before he put his hands on the man’ hips and pushed him against the wall.

“I should have brought some mistletoe,” Caractacus remarked, knowing full well he didn’t need it. He leaned in when Nevada did, allowing their lips to meet halfway.

Best fucking Christmas ever. Perhaps Nevada could get into this holiday after all.


End file.
